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*===========================< In Character Time >===========================*
Time of day: Night (Duskside)
Date on Aether: Tuesday, January 25, 3906.
Year on Earth: 1506 A.D.
Phase of the Moon: First Quarter
Season: Winter
Weather: Partly Cloudy
Temperature: Chilly
*==========================================================================*
A cart clatters by as you head into the Rialto to the west.
The Rialto - Haven(#159RDJM$)
Reigning over the Rialto is the very heart of Haven: the Delphic Citadel.
It dwarfs the other buildings, which cluster around it like so many children
seeking a parent's protection. Day or night, rain or shine, its walls seem to
glimmer with a light of their own, as if, over the centuries, the magic within
had slowly permeated the entire structure. The main tower soars higher than
the tallest tree, and each side tapers inward so that it resembles a giant
obelisk. Four smaller towers stand at the four points of the compass,
representing the unification of each race under Delphi's government.
And here is where they all gather. The Rialto is the famed marketplace
of Haven, full of shops, stalls, and brightly colored tents. The shouts of
merchants, the haggling of patrons, the music of entertainers, and the laughter
of children create a nigh-constant cacophony that assaults the senses. But the
Rialto is nothing if not exciting, and crowds often gather here for important
events and public addresses.
(Note: 'places' are enabled here.)
Contents:
Theron
Selene
Gaelius
Kissalara
Obvious Exits:
Streets Delphic Citadel
"A couple of times, in Civitas Dei," Selene admits, looking up to Theron and
ignoring the Varati vendor as she mutters something like 'feathered candala'
under her breath as she turns away from the quad of Empyreans before her stall.
"And it has been an occasion treat in my household, but not very often."
"How could you not, you have no choice if you wish to live." Kiss eyes the
other Empyreans the lady annoyed her.
"Just because you give someone your life doesn't mean you trust them, domina."
Gaelius counters, watching Kiss's face with some amusement.
"Why do you distrust them, what reason did they give you." Kiss looks Gaelius
up and down and smiles.
Theron ahs and nods. He glances over his shoulder to the Imphada, with a faint
smile, then turns back to Selene, "Might I escort you for a bit, or offer you
a bit of wine before your trip about the market?" Let's just separate these two
right now, shall we? He'll apologize to the Imphada when he returns.
A shrug, "Because they are Sylvans?" a glance towards Kissalara, "There has
been great crimes commited on both sides." Gaelius remarks quietly, wings
rustling slightly, as he leans against the stall, grazing the woman inadverently.
"Ah, that, I must admit, is true. But were they made against you as one or just
inadvertly?," Kissalara says.
Selene gladly turns her back to the stand, also turning a deaf ear to the
idle insults, though her guards eye the Varati woman with a dagger's gaze before
they too turn to accompany the pair. "Wine would be delightful, Imperator, I
must say I might enjoy a glass and would also enjoy your company, if only for a
brief while." The Dea tightens her palla around her shoulders and tightens her
wings closer to her back as they head toward one of the wine stalls in the Rialto.
"Domina?" Gaelius' sharp gaze flickers towards Kissalara, taking in every
detail, examining. "I fought in several wars."
Kissalara says "For your people, not as an individual."
Julius might be seen newly amongst the light bustle of the Rialto as shopper
close up and people take their goods home. In his hands he carries a broken piece
of wood, splintered as if torn roughly between two hands. He looks about the
marketplace a bit out of sorts...
"I fought for my people, because I am Empyrean. I am my people, so I fought for
myself as well." Gaelius' voice replies quietly. "Why don't you come walk with me,
domina?"
Theron offers his arm, of course, should it be needed or desire, ignoring behavior
on both sides. Being the man, of course, he's not going to end up in a good position
either way. One, he looks like he's betraying his race, the other, a long time
acquaintance. Ah well.
Kissalara smiles "Ah, proud I see." She raises a brow "lead on oh sir."
Jillin is lured in from the north by the aroma of baked goods.
Jillin has arrived.
Gaelius chuckles softly at Kissalara, and nods, turning towards the south.
Gaelius makes his way south, toward Seaside.
Gaelius has left.
Kissalara makes her way south, toward Seaside.
Kissalara has left.
Selene slips her arm through the one offered by Theron and quickly forgets the
displeasure of the earlier moments. "You still have not paid a visit to see my
daughter, Imperator. Usually I would come to visit you, but the Eyrie certainly
isn't a place for an infant." There is a softness in her features as she mentions
her daughter, a smile that could never existed in front of the Varati's stall.
Selene opens her mouth to continue speaking when her gaze wanders over the familiar
form of her cousin, newly arrived and with a wave she attempts to gain his attention.
Jillin wanders southward, with slow steps, a grin and a greeting here and there.
She stops to study some freshly-emerging fritters, at the nearest stall, and
fingers a coin indecisively.
Kitianta has connected.
Kitianta steps through a tall set of gates and enters Delphi's grounds.
Kitianta has left.
Julius's eyes had already been scanning the area and easily catches sight of
the wave. Tipping his head ot one side, he slowly crosses the distance with a
smile slowly spreading across his face..
Theron remarks, "I haven't wanted to intrude, Dea, but since I have so
disappointed you, I shall come and visit your daughter, setting up a shrine to
the lares of your house, declaring her to be the most beautiful thing that I have
ever set eyes upon, that has ever been since Tyche herself walked the earth." It's
a trace of humor threaded through there, then his glance goes in the direction of
the person waved to.
Jillin hands over the coin, and watches narrowly as the food's dished out. An
argument leads to another piece, a second argument fails, and she wanders off
nibbling.
Faisal is lured in from the north by the aroma of baked goods.
Faisal has arrived.
Selene chuckles brightly while brushing back a lock of her silver hair that had
been tossed by the careless fingers of the cold breeze. "Please, Imperator, such
things would not need be necessary. If you would rather not bearound a young child
I could understand." As Julius approaches she turns her smile to her cousin and
prepares to make introductions. "Ave cousin, have you yet met Imperator Marcellus?"
she asks, gesturing toward the man beside her. "Imperator, might I introduce my cousin,
Julius Jove?"
Theron grins at Selene, "I did not say that, Dea. I happen to be quite fond of
children." He sketches a bow to the Jovian, "Ave, Dominus. A pleasure to meet you."
THERON
It's a middle age Empyrean male. His profile probably not reflecting the
same lines of a noble face, well, at least according to the sculptors and painters.
Certainly, breeding does tell, because he seems to be a Praetor through and through,
and training will do only so much. He stands tallish, six feet perhaps. More than
enough height, and breadth (though he does show the slight effects of age -and- a
desk job) for the white wings that sprout from his back. The wings reflect a lot of
time spent caring for them, but still, the effects of middle age are there. As they
are in his hair color, at the very least. It is a light gold, mixed in with silver
strands, but with the rather severe cut of his hair, it's not as noticeable as it
could be. His eyes are a bright green, usually affable except when dealing with
problems within the guard, then they can be as hard and cold as ice. He is dressed
simply in a chiton, cuirass covering it. The cingulum around his chlamys indicates
that he has been rewarded with the rank of Imperator of Haven. His legs are protected
by the greaves and his feet shod in caligae. In essence, he seems to probably be
spot welded into his uniform.
Jillin settles herself on the edge of her favorite seat - that horse-trough by
the blacksmith's. She nibbles, watching the crowd. A brief study of Faisal -
wasn't he the one... yes, very likely.
Julius nods kindly to his cousin, then a more formal gesture to armoured man.
"No, I don't believe I have," he says in a very weak and whispery tone, turning
to Theron, "A pleasure as well."
Selene has seen you.
A mongrel woman, short of stature and long in age, fawns over a vase newly
purchased. The precision of it's making and the detail of it's carving
capturing her entire attention. So absorbed is she that the ominous, measured
ringing of boots on stone fails to catch her attention. The sound echoes closer,
born of furious, purposeful strides that aggravate an ebon haik to viciousness.
It snaps and whips as if a thing alive. Presiding above the inky-black tempest,
a face of cruel ruin casts afflicts the mongrel woman with it's attention, the
only patron of the Rialto lingering in his path. At once the thunderous steps
cease as the old warrior halts. The abrupt stop sends the hem of his garment
forward to lick ravenously at the heels of the mongrel before settling down.
Feeling something tickle her leg, the woman blinks and turns to face the invader.
A shadow passes over her face. The parched lips part as if to scream at the
monster before her, yet no sound issues forth. The vase speaks her horror when
it shatters against the stone cobble.
Faisal sorries for spam :/
Selene drools over Faisal spam :) "Don't apologize :)"
Julius wishes he could make entrances like that... ;)
Theron is tellin' the Pantywaist.
Faisal has seen you.
The dark image of the Agni-Haidar is only a shadow in the corner of Selene's
view and goes ignored, perhaps overlooked as nothing more than a shadow, as
she quietly studies the narrow frame of her Jovian cousin. There is a faint
wrinkle of worry that creases her brow as she notes he doesn't appear in much
better health then when he first arrived, but she makes no mention if it out
loud. Instead, with a distracted wave toward a wine stall, she juts her hand
out from beneath her palla to face the bitter cold and invites her cousin to
join them. "Please, Julius, we were going to have a glass or two of wine if
you'd care to join us?"
Theron starts to reply to his fellow Empyrean, when he hears the shatter of
pottery. Well, that could only mean a couple things. It's a festival that's
newly started up, there's a fight, or there's-- no, it's worse, Faisal has
decided to be socialable. Well, isn't that lovely? He turns back to the pair
he was talking to, "Please, Dominus, do join us."
Jillin winces at the crash, and hunches over her food. That would be him, yep.
Julius starts ever so slightly at the sound, a flinch and tensing of his neck.
He does not turn but pauses before speaking softly, "Certainly if I am not
interrupting..?"
The lips of the motherly woman move, as if to stammer something... but still
any voice lies deeply hidden in her throat. Black eyes assail her, searing her
flesh as if the fires of a Vara's forge. At last the coarse, cracked lips of
the ancient warrior move, lavishing the mongrel with the brutal tones of a
voice lost to age, "You will remove yourself candala woman."
Selene cannot ignore the shift of gaze of both Theron and Julius, not to
mention those of her two guards, all now focused on the hulking Varati man
known well throughout Haven. Her eyes narrow on the figure of the Agni-Haidar
while a soft ragged breath sharply drawn in betrays her sudden nervousness of
simply being so near this creature. Her pristine wings stiffen at her back,
leaving the feathers free to be tosses by the breeze at it's will.
Theron murmurs, "Have no worries, Domina, though he may be crude and cruel,
he is not so feebleminded that he will disturb you without there being severe
consequences." He starts to say more, but simply shakes his head and turns
away, to the wine vendor and holds up three fingers to indicate the number
of goblets to be had.
Some semblance of thought returns to the woman, still largely locked into
shock, for she takes a wavering step to the side, then another...slowly
retreating from the monster's path. Faisal launches forward into his furious
gate, boots mercilessly crunching the remnants of the mongrel's ruined vase.
The haik broils, and his burning gaze assails the crowd for other faces. The
pristine wings of Empyreans snare the cruel obsidian stare as Faisal's gaze
comes to settle upon Theron, Julius and Selene
Julius now turns to see what his companions speak of and with flexing of his
hands he takes note of the Agni Haidar, actually catching his eyes upon them.
Falling back a couple steps, he then turns back with his jaw set in place,
looking to the wine vendor as the goblets are filled and brought...
Jillin glances at the woman, sympathetically. She wastes no time, though,
gathering her food together and starting on a weaving path out of the area.
Jillin makes her way south, toward Seaside.
Jillin has left.
Selene takes the wine glass absently, unable to turn her sapphire gaze from
the bulk of darkness that strides through the Rialto and perhaps underneath
it all there is envy that he can make mongrels scatter quicker than she can.
Her wings twitch on their own accord as that midnight gaze falls on the trio
and with a deep breath drawn in, she straightens her shoulders and does her
best to appear unaffected by Faisal's presence.
Theron smiles cheerfully at Faisal, hell, he gives the man a friendly wave
and smile, it's almost fatuous, then he turns to his conversational partners,
sipping his wine, and asking, "So, Dominus Jove, what brings you to Haven?"
Big black spot of evil? Naw, Faisal's just misunderstood, that's all. If you
just ignore poor behavior, well, it will go away, eventually.
The obsidian tempest changes course suddenly, as if sharply rounding some
unseen corner. The turn scatters a new group of rialto patrons like a flock
of birds who choose to scatter rather than suffer the attentions of the Nayaka.
The new course is aimed directly at the trio. The ominous ringing of his boots
only draws closer - distant thunder harking the onslaught of the storm to come.
Julius speaks flatly and as the steps get closer and louder, becomes a bit
harder to hear. "A .. bit of family business and visiting." the broken piece
of wood in his off hand is left to the interior of his cloak.
Selene forces herself to turn her attention back to the pale images of Theron
and Julius while sipping her wine, portraying the most gentile image possible.
Perhaps if she ignores the approaching storm it will simply disappate. To
Julius she gives a tender smile, from one cousin to the other while a brief
glance downard notices the object in his hands. "Trying your hand at some
carving, perhaps?" she asks curiously as she inquires about the broken piece
of wood.
Theron ohs and nods, ignoring the growing sound of the bootheels toward his
quintet, let's not forget those two Acesian guards, hmmm? "How nice, is this
your first time in Haven?" Impending doom? No, of course not.
Julius looks down at the shaft of wood, eyes shifting a bit as he admits.
"Actually... no." he says to Theron then back to his cousin, "There was a bit
of an accident last I saw Drusus..." he seems a bit reluctant on this one, or
is it tension?
The thunder only grows, cleaving the air as the steps bring him to the
immediacy of the Empyrean group. The thrashing garment settles into a
foreboding and reluctant peacefulness as the cruel shadow halts behind the
person of the Imperator. Looming as if monstrous, light consuming statue,
Faisal rains words down upon Theron, "So it is true..."
Theron glances towards Faisal with a somewhat 'startled' expression, "Your
pardon, Imphadi, what is true?" Ever so polite, as if he just noticed the
man had decided to join them, not pointing out how very rude it is to interrupt.
Even though she tries hard not to, Selene shrinks back as the voice
assaults her ears and the shadow consumes their circle with it's inky touch.
She remains silent, even mention of her Empyror cousin does not bring words
to her tongue to respond to Julius. Indeed it is rude for this man to
interrupt a civilized conversation, but she certianly is not about to
mention that. Should any words leap from her tongue, she silences them
with another drink from her glass.
Julius's hand reflexively tightens around the splintered length of wood,
his head frozen in place as he looks down at the goblet in the other
tightened hand. He is quiet.
The face of the ancient warrior, ground to ruin by the passionless winds
of time and the brutality of service to the God-King, afflicts Theron
with it's full attention as words of a like nature rip through the air,
"This..." The obsidian figure's haik seems to explode as a coarse and
calloused hand cleaves the air towards Theron's chlamys..or his throat.
The Dea's sapphire gaze flicks from the Imperator to the Agni-Haidar
and then back again, obviously confused by the short vocal exchanges
that come from the Varati's mouth. Unconsciously she sniffs with disdain,
taking it as a lack of education and another example of the Varati
inferiority to the learned Empyre. Only her wings speak, rustled by the
passing winds and her own discomfort, no sound comes from her lips.
Theron doesn't flinch, he'd rather been expecting that sort of thing,
"Indeed, I am Imperator of Haven." Again that bland smile, "I'll take
that for congratulations. Thank you so much." And as a sign of such
position, a guard comes flying in, ignoring the usual manners about
where to land and such. Having spotted the Imperator, he heads straight
for the group, "Imperator Marcellus, you are needed at the Eyrie." Theron
nods in reply, turning to the rest of the group, "My pardons, duty calls."
Gesturing to the Ceterion, he indicates the Acesian guards, he remarks,
"Ceterion. These gentlemen have some techniques they've been I think you
should learn. Would you stay here in my stead, if the Dea does not mind,
and see what you can learn about it, and report to me tomorrow." Then to
Selene, "Dea, a pleasure as always." To Julius, "Dominus, perhaps another
time." Then to Faisal, "My apologies that we cannot continue this lovely
conversation at present, perhaps later?"
Julius doesn't as much take a step back as he jumps, seemingly shifted
from one place to another out of the way of the hilking Varati and closer
to his cousin. He still says nothing...
Faisal's gnarled fingers clutch Theron's chlamys of rank with an iron
grasp, examining it with open disdain for the office it represents. The
anchor of flesh dissapears as Faisal's hand withdraws into the depths of
the nightmarishly ebon haik. "You may go...." his lips threaten a sneer,
"...candala Imperator." The black eyes tear away from Theron only to sieze
Selene with their burning gaze.
Theron quirks a faint smile, "How kind of you, Imphadi." He bows again
to Selene and Julius. He leaves, strangely though, after he leaves, quite
a few Praetors will show up, one or two at a time, until there's quite a
group. Nothing at all happening, real casual like. So y'all take that in
mind, feel free to use and abuse at will, just let me know what happens.
Selene stares openly as Theron makes his departure, swinging first to
the guards left behind, hoping to her lares that they won't decide they
need to leave as well. When she turns back, she finds the Varati's gaze
squarely set on her and before she can even control it, her body visibly
tenses under Faisal's menacing stare. There are a few moments, an eternity
in her mind, that she retains a level gaze with the dark-skinned Varati,
but it cannot last long and the twin jewels drop to her wine glass, sadly
finding it empty.
Julius turns his head up to watch the piercing gaze hit his cousin. His
silver eyebrows crease his brow as his mouth forms a tight line, face
schooled neutral. Nothing can be done to hide the abject hate and fury
in Julius' blue eyes, but nothing is still said.
Faisal's vicious tones rip through the air once more as he speaks to the
noblewoman, "The candala imperator called you Dea. What is your House,
candala woman?"
Selene is uncertain if the Varati term, but it certainly cannot mean
anything resembling pleasant. Mustering her courage she again raises
her gaze to meet the flame-touched one of Faisal and answers in a clear
voice so that there is no mistake. "Dea Selene Justina Jove Acesian, born
of the line of Jove and Dea to the line of Apollo." The simple manner of
speaking the names of her lares gives strength to her voice and a noble set
to her shoulders.
Julius's eyes narrow further, each insult tightening his grip on a
forearmed-sized length of wood, splintered and broken on one end and
tucked away inside the cloak he wears. Still silent, Julius brings his
uneven shoulders straighter and squared as well, almost defiant.
Faisal's face, a horrible mask of stone, lowers so that it directly opposes
Selene's..seperated by less than the width of a hand. His hot, musty breath
breaks against her fair skin as the coals of his eyes ruthlessly examine her
features. Suddenly his voice lashes her once again, "You are not of the House
called Tritonis. Not related to the Maharani."
Were the heat from a candle or torch, Selene might enjoy the warmth against
her skin, but the invasion of her personal space by anyone by her husband
is just too much for her to take and she leans back, dropping her head to
the side so his assult catches her ear and hair. "You are wrong in that,"
she responds, amazed that she has not wilted from his mere presence. "The
Maharani's mother is of the lineage of Jove." Slowly her eyes turn back
to Faisal, and her lips turn into a faint scowl. "She is my cousin." It
wounds her to admit that the Varati queen shares her blood, but there is
a twsited pleasure in telling this creature that he is wrong.
As Selene moves back, Julius moves forward like a chess piece. A slightly
protective gestures, his eyes seemed to be focused in the looming figure's
direction but not on him... his body is stiff from tension and still, he is
silent.
Serina is lured in from the north by the aroma of baked goods.
Serina has arrived.
Serina shuffles over to a nearby wall and sits down.
A growl issues from the depths of the Nayaka's throat as a scowl breaks
through the stone mask. His lips taste her reply as if finding it distasteful
himself, "Cousin to the Maharani..."
Serina dropped Wooden Bowl.
A faint smile creeps across her lips, but nothing that spreads across her
entire visage. The Agni-Haidar is still rather near to her and her nose
wrinkles in it's one distaste. The breath that accompanies the words brings
the wrinkle to her alabaster features, rather than the words themself. "Yes,"
she finally responds with increasing strength behind her words to accompany
the ghost of an expression on her lips.
Julius stands, as if waiting. He makes no move to speak or act, just watches
vigilantly his cousin converse. His eyes though, remain just off focus on one
of the Varati's hands... waiting...
Caius soars in from the skies above.
Caius has arrived.
Selene says, "Uhoh :)"
Serina stands up and shuffles along to one of the merchant booths
Serina has left.
The cracked, parched lips of the ancient Varati commander pull back - deepening
the distasteful grimance. He straightens from his stoop, the gesture sending
ominous ripples down teh length of his obsidian haik. The merciless gaze lingers,
"The family of the Maharani may not be slain or injured...." the cruel eyes
suddenly rip away from Selene only to viciously sieze Julius, "unless they
were to do something foolish."
Selene doesn't move for a long time, save for the fluttering of her lashes
in surprise. The block of granite has approached her, questioned her and now
leaves her untouched, certainly that surprised more than the Dea. At her back,
the two house guards and the Praetorian left by Theron all remain with hands
to their hilts, just in case anything aside for the Varati's breath dare touch
the Dea. When Selene does move, its to exhale a long-held breath and swing her
gaze to her cousin.
Julius doesn't move, says nothing, just keeps a steady bowed head and focus on
the hand closest to him. His shoulders seem to have lost a bit of their square,
curved a bit as the slight hump upon his back moves weakly. Hands still tensed,
still stiff, he does nothing.
The nighttime sky yields another visitor to this scene...but no dark stormlike
cloud is this one, instead a golden winged warrior, whose armor glints with the
light of the moon overhead. Settling to ther earth with composure and dignity,
the Praetor casts an imperious gaze about the plaza, azure eyed stare coming
to bear upon the collection of Empyrean Guards...and the trio at thier center.
Long strides carry the winged man towards the gathering with the same iron
resolve which permeates his expression.
As if suddenly discovering himself to be soiled by the nearness of Candala,
Faisal's haik whirls into a menacing tempest of motion as he abruptly turns
to leave. The haik, so newly filled with rage, is forced to settle again as
the Nayaka confronts the newly arrived Caius. The ruined mask of stone
regards the young warrior with the same disdain he lavished upon Selene. A
grating voice spits, "And foolishness comes..."
Selene glances up with another deep sigh of relief that the Varati has left
without incident, only to find the image of Ceterion Antoninus in her view,
and more importantly the fact that Faisal as seen him as well. By the gods,
let him remain out of a Hound's cell or a Praetor's cell this time, please.
With this new freedom of movement she returns the glass to the wine vendor's
stall and refuses a second that is quickly offered by the merchant. Her
attention is focused on the two warriors and a second glass of wine would
go untouched.
Julius takes a step after the stone warrior, following him for a foot's
distance as if escorting him ... lifting his eyes to the Empyrean soldier,
he blinks but a few times, but stays where he is, letting whatever new
discorse take the Varti man from their midsts...
Only rarely has the Nayaka encountered a face utterly devoid of fear...
even more rare would be one in which his considerable scorn is equalled.
In a voice rife with derision he intones to the Varati, "The eyes of your
kind, Nephandus, have ever been slow in recognizing worth. I expected no
reverse in this." The auric shroud of Caius' wings settle behind him,
framing the Praetor in a halo of feathes.
The light drinking shadow crosses the short distance to Caius in a feral
leap. Looming over the Preator like night itself, Faisal growls almost
lustfully, "Challenge me bird child...." an aged hand drifts from beneath
the obsidian pool of his garment to reach for Caius's neck. It halts just
short..working as if desperate to sink it's finger's into the Empyrean's
delicate flesh, "...so that I can see your worth."
Serina has arrived.
Serina travels along North, toward the Fairway.
Serina has left.
Selene makes no approach to the pair, but she lifts her voice toward
Caius, even surprising herself but the strength in it. "Ceterion, do
not waste your time yet again with this ..." Her gaze flicks to Faisal,
trying to come up with the proper term, but fails miserably and settles
on "Varati." If the Agni-Haidar looks over at her, she is completely
ignorant of it, her gaze is fixed solely on the Praetorian who is in danger
of ending up in a cell yet again, if not worse.
Julius just watches, almost a mere part of the scenery as he observes
dream like the possible confrontation to errupt...
A shade of Faisal's hatred is reflected back at him...as might be expected
between two warriors who have drawn the blood of the other's race. A sneer
of pure scorn is gifted to the Nayaka. "If an endgame is to be reached
betwixt us, /Nephandus/," the word is uttered with cold intensity, "Then
you shall begin it. The sky will not lower itself to the likes of one such
as you, No it must be the rocks and weeds which aspire towards the heavens
...much as your race aspires to emulate the greatness of my own. If you
seek to taste my worth, than speak, else delay me no further from paying
proper respects to my betters." No surrender in this one...no retreat,
and no fear.
The immovable shadow remains, it's cruel face anchored upon Caius's fair
one with murderous intent. His grating, rumbling voice attacks the Empyrean
before him, "Pretty words do not hide your dishonor, bird child, or the
dishonor of your race. I still remember the screams of your wounded brothers
at Thermopylae before I fed them to the jaws of wyverns...still alive."
The Nayaka's face lacks any relish at the memory, but he retells it
eagerly to the young Preatorian, "They said many things before they were
torn apart. Forsook the Empyre, cursed the Empyror's name, cast off the
tokens of rank as if they could appease me to spare their life. You stand
here now only at the sufferance of the Amir-al for I cannot shed blood
unless it is deserved."
It only takes a moment of brief conversation between the guards the
determine that should the threat of bloodshed make itself known in the
streets, the Dea should be nowhere near. The elder of her house guards
approach and relay a message to her, her gaze still on Caius. Reluctantly,
she nods and waves her cousin over to join her on their journey home. Wings
spread, beat at the night air and the five Empyreans disappear, leaving the
two warriors to face each other alone.
Selene snugs "Thanks for a great scene all :)"
Selene leaps into the air and takes flight, disappearing into the sky
above Haven.
Selene has left.
You take off into the skies over Haven.
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